


When you were mine, the world seemed to burn

by heavenisalibrary



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: F/M, Human AU
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-02-10
Packaged: 2018-05-14 13:56:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,627
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5746342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/heavenisalibrary/pseuds/heavenisalibrary
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“They’re not together,” Amy said, pursing her lips and letting her eyes wander toward her glass of wine as she took a sip so that the ‘anymore’ her tone implied remained an implication as opposed to gossip. Martha raised her brows at that but refrained from commenting, but Clara never was good at that.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Based on some tumblr post about a "we're exes who ended on kinda shitty terms but are trying to 'stay friends' anyway, and we occasionally sabotage each other's dates, get drunk and fuck, scream and fight until four in the morning and still refuse to acknowledge that maybe we're not quite as over each other as we like to think we are" fic...
> 
> So a human AU of that, where the Doctor and River have recently broken up, and are the topic of much debate amongst their friends, in three parts (all of which are finished! And have been seen by another soul! So I'll actually update! Miracle of miracles.)

****“They’re not together,” Amy said, pursing her lips and letting her eyes wander toward her glass of wine as she took a sip so that the ‘anymore’ her tone implied remained an implication as opposed to gossip. Martha raised her brows at that but refrained from commenting, but Clara never was good at that.

“Not officially, then, but come on, Amy,” Clara said. “Martha’s known him longest, I know him best lately, but you know them _both_. There’s something there.”

Amy snorted. She glanced away from her friends as she searched for an answer that would be both truthful and properly communicate her disbelief — if not outright disdain — for the situation and instead watched the scene unfolding in the kitchen through the window. They were meant to have a girls night, and Rory was going to go meet up with the Doctor for a movie, but instead the Doctor had come to their house, acting like he had forgotten the plan. But he’d immediately made a beeline for River, and now they were shouting at one another in the kitchen while Rory sat at the table behind them, opening his mouth to interject every now and then, but never quite able to get a word in edgewise. Amy looked away just when it seemed like River was going to slap the Doctor, sighing.

“There’s nothing there,” Amy said, rolling her eyes and hoping she was being as un-subtle about it as possible. “Look at ‘em, can’t stand the sight of each other.”

Clara opened her mouth to protest, but Martha slapped her arm lightly, leaning over the table to grab the bottle and pour her another glass of wine.

“Give it up,” Martha said, “she’s going to toe the party line.”

“It’s rubbish, is all I’m saying. Amy, you can’t tell me neither of them has said a word to you.”

“Look at all that fightin’,” Amy said, gesturing vaguely toward the house. “When exactly do you think they have time to say a word to me at all?”

Before anybody could protest, River stormed out of the kitchen and into the backyard where they all sat, the Doctor hot on her heels — his eyebrows looking particularly irate — and Rory a few feet behind, shoulders slumped.

“We’re not done discussing this!” the Doctor shouted.

“We’re not discussing anything, you arsehole!” River shouted back, sitting down in a chair at the table with her back to the Doctor. She huffed, her face flushed, and Amy hurried to get her a glass of wine, but River waved her off, instead grabbed the bottle. “If you’ll recall, I don’t have to discuss anything with you anymore.”

“You do when you’re going on a date with Ramone,” the Doctor said, stopping behind her and crossing his arms over his chest.

“I can date whomever I like. I’m single.”

“I know that,” he said. “I helped _cause_ that. I _wanted_ that, if you recall. But it’s Ramone. He’s a prick, River. And you know he’s only going out with you to get back at me for —”

River froze with the wine bottle midway to her mouth, and Amy sat back in her seat with a sigh as she saw River’s expression go from rather irritated to nuclear in that instant. Martha’s eyes darted between the Doctor — who even standing behind River seemed to realize that he’d messed up — and River and then to Amy, but Amy shook her head. There was no way to interfere now without getting caught in the crossfire.

Slowly, methodically, River set the wine down on the table, pushed her chair back and stood up. She turned to face the Doctor, and Amy covered her mouth to prevent herself from laughing at the way the Doctor immediately held his hands up as though to hold her off, stumbling backwards as River stalked toward him.

“Ramone,” she said, punctuating the word by shoving her finger hard against his chest as he continued to back away from her, “is. taking. me. out. because. he. likes. me. you. insufferable. piece. of —”

Whatever else was said was lost to the crowd outside as River backed the Doctor into the house. Amy watched the Doctor stumble into the kitchen table, and then outright flee the kitchen as River pursued him until they disappeared completely from view.

“See?” Amy said, extending her leg beneath the table to kick out one of the chairs and gesture for Rory to come sit. “Like cats and dogs.”

“Like cats in _heat_ ,” Donna said, waving the bottle of wine she held in each hand over her head as she approached the table and took her seat. “It’s indecent.”

Amy shook her head, pouring Donna a glass of wine. “Noooope,” she said, “I’m not having this conversation. They’re friends, you lot. Stop your gossiping.”

“Amy,” Rory said, leaning over in his seat to whisper in Amy’s ear as everybody took to asking Donna about her recent job interview. “Did you remember to lock the door to our bedroom?”

“Yup,” Amy said, “and the guest room. This isn’t my first rodeo.”  
  
“Good,” Rory said. “I wish they’d just get back together already.”

“Hush,” Amy said, patting his thigh, “and have another drink. It’ll sort itself in time.”

“Even still,” Rory said, “I’d like it to sort itself before I have to replace another sheet set after one of their ‘fights.’”

 

 

 

River somewhat expected the Doctor to sabotage her date in some way. It wasn’t like he didn’t have form when it came to this sort of thing. Once, before they’d started dating, he’d taken a job as a bartender just so he could be present during the entirety of one of her dates. He’d constantly butted in and offered insulting insights to her date — it was the sort of thing she found incredibly irritating until she shouted at him about it, and he shrunk back against a wall, gave her those puppy dog eyes, and made some sort of admission about his feelings for her. That was a scene that was all too familiar, though, after a few years of calling him hers. Their arguments always ended one of two ways.

One: him, contrite and avoiding her eyes as he wrung his hands out and made some gruff mention of his oft concealed feelings.

Two: her, pressed up against the nearest flat surface and screaming.

She stifled a shudder at the thought, glancing briefly at Ramone where he sat, gorgeous as ever, across from her and tugging at the scarf she’d thrown around her neck to cover up the Doctor’s most recent attempt at sabotage. She’d have to deliver some line about needing to build up the anticipation when he attempted to invite her up to his flat later on — the Doctor had been very thorough in making sure she didn’t have a prayer of getting her clothes off tonight.

Mostly she was irritated that she was so incapable of doing anything to stop herself from snogging the daylights out of him when he got properly cross; his accent deeper and throatier, his face flushed, those long, distracting fingers twitching at his sides like he was going to reach out and grab her… but then that was a problem too, that the moment she stepped toward him, he didn’t stop himself from reaching out and grabbing her, from shoving his hands roughly beneath her clothes and greedily digging his fingers into her skin, running the calloused pads of his fingers over all the most sensitive parts of her body he never forgot so that his skin caught against hers in a way that made her breathing hitch without fail — and of course things spun out from there.

Honestly, the Doctor wasn’t much to look at. He was old and grumpy and callous and could barely manage to string together a single sentence about his feelings, and his eccentricities were infamous to anybody who’d ever met him. He was arrogant and sarcastic and hadn’t even an ounce of patience. River figured all of those things were why he didn’t date much, but she also knew that if he ever managed to con anybody else into going out on a date with him, they’d probably end up likewise caught in this stupid cycle, because while the Doctor was an infuriating presence, she’d long ago learned that if you pushed him and drew him out in just the right way, being with him was a transformative experience. In more ways than one.

River dragged her thoughts back to the present, glancing up at Ramone and catching his truly adorable smirk as he peered at her over the edge of his menu, and thought that just maybe there would be a way to get Ramone to strip down without having to remove a stitch of her own clothing.

Now that was a story that would truly get under the Doctor’s skin when Ramone told it to their coworkers the next morning. Not that that was her sole — or even her primary — motivation. But it was definitely a bonus.

 

 

 

“Come _on_ ,” Amy urged, drumming her fingers against the table. “Usually you’re all too eager to give me all the dirty details of whatever or _whomever_ you’re doing but you’ve gone on one date with cuter-than-a-monkey-with-a-puppy Ramone and suddenly mum’s the word?”

River mimed zipping her lips. Amy threw herself back in her chair dramatically, clutching at her hair.

“River, come on! Was it a good date?”

River nodded.

“Did he take you somewhere nice?”

She nodded again.

“Did he pay? Was the conversation good?”

Two nods and a smirk.

“And after, he took you to his?”

River nodded, smirk deepening as she looked away, stirring her tea — a little unnecessarily, in Amy’s opinion. Usually she had to ask River to stop going into such detail when it came to recounting her dates, especially since most of her dates over the past few years had been with the Doctor, and that was the last thing Amy wanted dirty details about.

“And? _And?_ ”

River shrugged. “Nothing happened, Amy. We had a drink, bit of a snog, and I said goodnight.”

“Seriously? Why?” Amy asked, although she had more than an inkling as to the why, but she wasn’t going to be the one to bring it up. “Don’t get me wrong, Rory and I are very happy and I love his stupid face, but Ramone’s face. Ramone has a face, River. And it’s a very, very good face.”

“I know,” River said, sighing. “I had a mind to find out how good the rest of him was, but there were other considerations.”

“Such as?”  
  
River hesitated. “Promise you’re not going to do the screeching thing? It’s only ten AM and I don’t think I could cope.”

“Cross my heart. Now spill.”

“Your girls’ night,” River said. “The one I spent most of fighting with the Doctor.”

“Yes…”

“We stopped fighting, after a while,” River said, sipping her coffee before amending, “well it was sort of still fighting, but less verbal. More… physical.”

Amy was tempted to just respond that she bloody well knew that since she and Rory had been Doctor-and-River-proofing their house since the break-up, but instead she decided to play it cool. Taking a deep breath and trying not to sound too excited, she said, “so you still have feelings for the Doctor.”

“Good lord, no,” River said, rolling her eyes. “But that idiot marked me up, rather unambiguously. I swear he did it on purpose.”

Amy also stopped herself from pointing out that yes, of course the Doctor did it on purpose, because he was so jealous even his cranky, generally blank expression couldn’t hide it. “Then why do you keep — why did you shag him?”

River winged a brow. “There’s never been anything wrong with _that_ part of our relationship.”

“What was wrong with the relationship, again?” Amy said. “I don’t even remember. We all thought you were going to get married and have the most annoying litter of kids on the planet.”

River sipped her coffee, giving her an excuse to glance away, but Amy knew River well enough to see her cringe slightly, so she waited her out.

“Many things,” River said with a bleak laugh. “It was a mutual decision. Well, it was more his decision than mine, though don’t ever tell him that I said it. I began to feel that I was more invested in our… relationship than he was, and when I tried to fix it, he suggested we break it off. And here we are.”

Amy frowned. “That’s not how he tells it.”

“It doesn’t matter,” River said, setting her coffee down a little too hard. “Tell me about that short story you were working on. Is it scandalous?”

 


	2. Chapter 2

Every once in a while, Amy and Rory had everybody over for dinner. Rory, of course, did the cooking while Amy continually poured wine into everyone’s glasses until everybody was red-faced and laughing before their first bite. Usually, it was a time to catch up on what everybody had been doing, and to meet new girlfriends or boyfriends — during the evening in question, Clara’s new girlfriend Nina was the center of attention — and everybody laughed and drank and ate and it was the most pleasant evening in sight for weeks.

Until River and the Doctor broke up.The first few dinners after they split were carefully managed by their friends — everyone tried to keep them separately entertained, and mediated when they ended up mutually engaged in a conversation. But once things seemed to be going well enough after the initial few months, everybody backed up. Which was definitely not the best laid plain.

Everyone had barely started eating when the Doctor suddenly dropped his fork onto his plate, emphatically enough for everybody to turn and look as he glowered at River from across the table.

“I never did that and you know it.”

“Oh, you  _ did _ ,” River said. “You told me for ages that you’d take me to that new restaurant in London, Darillium — the one no one can get a reservation for for years down the line because you said you had an in. Not that I care about fancy dinners, but being lied to isn’t much fun.”

“Why did you bring this up?”

“I didn’t bring it up,” River said. “Martha said that she and Mickey were planning on going to the bar there, and you said you knew a guy.”

“I  _ do _ know a guy.”

“Well, if you do know a guy, he’s not very effective. Maybe if Martha and Mickey want to grab a bite in a decade they should —”

“It’s not a decade! I can get a reservation if I want a reservation.”

“So you didn’t want a reservation, for two years, or however long it was, then?”

“I  _ did _ ,” the Doctor said, tugging at his hair. “You never let me explain!”

“You’re very nearly a compulsive liar.”

“Coming from you, that’s rich.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come off it, River,” the Doctor said. He rolled his eyes. “You lie like you breathe. Sometimes just for fun.”

“Oh, let’s discuss all the things you like to do for fun, shall we, darling? Because I’m sure everybody would find it enlightening to know all the times you’ve stol —”

“Shut up!” he said. “If I did, it was only at your urging.”

“My — let’s not act like I was the only adrenaline junkie in the relationship, not that I’ve ever denied —”

“ _ Certainly _ our friends don’t know the extent of your  _ crimina _ —”

“I’m not a criminal! My record is clear!”

“Only because you haven’t been caught.”

“Was that a compliment?”

“Sounded like one, but then, if the implication of a compliment is insulting, is it a compliment, or an insult?”

“You’re an arse.”

“You’re a  _ compulsive liar.” _

“Pot — kettle!” River huffed and scooted her chair out from the table, stomping away into the house. “Someone come and fetch me when that prick has left.”

“No, no, no,” the Doctor said, flying to his feet and following along after her. “You’re going to leave, not me.”

Poor Nina looked around the table, wide-eyed. She let out a nervous stream of laughter, trying to break the ice as everybody tried to pretend they couldn’t hear the Doctor and River shouting in the house as they passed around a couple of newly opened bottles of wine.

“Marriage is hard, eh?” Nina asked.

Amy sighed, shooting Clara and Martha and Donna a ‘not this again’ glance and taking a hearty sip of her wine. 

  
  
  
  


The Doctor threw a party at his small house, stringing up some lights that flickered and looked more than a little excessive in his tiny back yard and setting out a table full of snacks and alcohol. It was the sort of thing that Amy usually roped him into, and he acted like he couldn’t stand the thought of it, and grumbled the entire time she set up, even though his favorite thing in the world as having his little blue house filled to the brim with all of his friends. This time, though, it was his idea, and the amount of conversational acrobatics he did to keep from explaining why he’d done it to every single person who walked into the house with a slightly bewildered expression were truly impressive.

Clara, of course, looped her arm through his the moment she walked in, dragged him to an isolated corner of his back yard, and then stepped back from him long enough to place her hand on her hips and give him her best school teacher expression.

“Clara…” he warned, but she wasn’t having it.

“You threw a party,” she said.  
  
“Yes, you’re looking at it.”

“ _ You _ threw a  _ party _ ,” she repeated. “So spill, old man. What’s the catch?”

“No catch,” he said. “Just friends, drinks, and look — I’ve put up lights.”

“ _ Doctor _ ,” Clara said, rolling her eyes. She eyed him carefully for a moment when he just crossed his arms and didn’t respond, and then after a few moments she stood up straighter, smirking. “Did you invite any exes to this party?”

“Exes?” the Doctor said, acting like he had no idea what she was talking about. “I don’t even think I have exes.”

“No,” Clara agreed, “that’s true. You haven’t got exes — you’ve got ex, singular. Did you invite your ex to the party?”

“Of course I didn’t,” the Doctor said. “As you obviously remember, she’s an ex. Besides, we don’t even like each other.”

“Rubbish,” Clara said. “I’ve seen you fighting.”

“That would seem to prove my point.”

“You’re an idiot,” Clara said. “Just tell River you want to get back together.”

“I didn’t invite her,” the Doctor said, throwing his hands up.

“Donna’s bringing her,” Clara said. “But you knew one of us would.”

“Clara, stop,” the Doctor said. “There isn’t any plan. There’s just a party.”

“Sure, Doctor,” Clara said, sighing. “But can I point one thing out to you before I go enjoy your just-a-party?”

“I can’t stop you.”

“You didn’t disagree with me when I said you want to get back together with River.”   


He started to splutter his denial, but Clara just raised her brows at him and disappeared into the growing crowd — his friends always brought friends who brought friends, and somehow three hours later the Doctor found his little blue house spilling over with people, many of whom he knew, and many of whom he didn’t. Social skills weren’t his forte lately, though, and so after failing miserably at small talk a few dozen times, he found himself a bottle of something or other and went to find a corner to sulk in… which is when he spotted River across the yard, sitting on a table, her head thrown back in laughter as Rory told her some story with broad hand gestures.

He took a large sip of whatever-it-was straight from the bottle, but he couldn’t tear his eyes from River. Usually, encounters with his ex that were a few shades past the ‘friendly’ terms they’d agreed to months ago, happened in the moment without much planning or consideration. When he wasn’t boiling with irritation or sheer bloody jealousy that he’d never admit to, he was generally in control of his faculties enough to remind himself that River had wanted to break up with him, too. Well, River had been the only one who wanted to break up — so he’d acted like it was mutual to spare himself the embarrassment. Now, though, he was more than a little drunk, and River seemed to be too, judging by the flush to her cheeks and the glint in her eyes as she met his gaze across the party.

He raised his bottle to her slightly, and she tilted her head at him, pursing her lips around the straw of her drink as she took a sip, looking thoughtful. As she looked at the Doctor, Rory continued to tell a story which had clearly gone on a bit too long. The Doctor could tell by the way Rory swayed as he stood that he’d had more than a little too much to drink, and the Doctor slid his eyes to Rory, and then drew a finger across his throat when he met River’s gaze again. She smirked, just one corner of her lips tilting up at the end. When Rory spun around, his back to River and hands flailing as he continued to talk, River gestured at Rory with her thumb and then mimed throwing back a shot. The Doctor smiled. River smiled back.

He wondered why even across a yard full of people, exchanging a look like that with her made him feel warm. Instead of analyzing that further, he pointed at himself, and then at River, and then gestured to the house. She bit her lower lip, but he could tell she was at least thinking about it. He didn’t know what he was going to do once they were in the house, but he knew he wanted to close the distance between them like he wanted to breathe. He smiled at her, just a little at first, but when he could see her fighting a grin, his expression deepened, until he was beaming at her like an idiot from across the yard. She rolled her eyes, then nodded.

The Doctor didn’t wait around to see how she extricated herself from Rory, just lurched to his feet and grabbed his bottle of whatever-it-was, and stumbled his way through the crowd into his house. Even the house was busy with people, though, and it took him a while to find his way to the kitchen, which was piled with cups and plates and empty bowls of chips, and blessedly devoid of human life. It took fifteen minutes and another quarter of the bottle he was drinking for River to finally find him.

“Hanging out with all of your friends?”

“Ha-ha,” he said, rolling his eyes and holding the bottle out to her. She accepted it, stepping into his personal space and swigging from it. “Now I am.”

“Darling, we’ve never been friends.”

He thought about arguing with her, or bantering with her further, or telling her that he felt like she was touching him when she smiled at him from across a crowded party, or admitting that he’d never wanted to break up at all, and if she’d just reconsider, they could fix the whole thing, but she was standing so close to him, and setting the bottle on a countertop, her body arching against his, and so he couldn’t do anything but swoop down and kiss her.

She didn’t hesitate for a second. Immediately her hands were in his hair, her nails scraping roughly against his scalp and making him shudder as he kissed her harder, pressing his tongue into her mouth and backing her into the counter, roughly enough to make her gasp against his lips. His hands found her hips, and when she pressed herself more tightly against him, he slid his hands around to slide into the back pockets of her jeans.

“I should warn you,” River said on a gasp, as the Doctor broke away from her mouth to suck on the spot on the side of her neck that made her knees wobble, “I’m drunk. Absolutely smashed. Otherwise this would never happen.”

“Same here,” he said, “absolutely.”

“Not that —  _ gah _ …” She trailed off as he reached a hand around to her front, sliding it up under her shirt to grab clumsily at her breasts over her bra. She hopped up onto the counter, wrapping her legs around him and pulling him close to her. “We’ll not talk about Amy and Rory’s.”

“Amy and Rory’s?” he murmured distractedly, kissing his way down her neck again as she reached around him beneath his blazer to grab at his ass and pull him closer. He busied his fingers sliding her shirt up as she spoke.

“Two weeks ago,” she said. “Before my date with Ramone. When we — soberly —”

“We were intoxicated,” he said, shucking up her shirt enough to duck beneath it and lick and suck and kiss and nip at her breasts, overflowing from the cups of a bra he’d gotten her for an anniversary however long ago. He tried hard not to let himself think that she’d warn it anticipating something like this, but it didn’t work very well. “Fighting always had that effect on us.”

“True,” she said. “Even when everything else was rubbish, we always knew how to —  _ sweetie —  _ argue.”

“Nothing was ever rubbish,” he muttered against her skin, his fingers reaching down to fumble with the button of her jeans. “Except maybe me.”

“What did you say?”

He pulled back from her, but before he could clarify, he realized they were still in his kitchen, during his very crowded party. “I said, we shouldn’t do this in the kitchen.”  
  
“We’ve done it in your kitchen before.”

“Usually my kitchen isn’t at risk of being invaded by drunk strangers at any moment,” he said. “I think I saw Jack here, and you know he’d just —”

“One day, I’m going to persuade you that the three of us could have a great time together.”

He smiled at her a bit, and decided not to point out to her that she’d implied there was a future for them, even of the sexual variety. Instead he straightened her shirt and stepped back so she could hop off of the counter. He’d meant to just lead her upstairs to his room, but he couldn’t stop himself from leaning back into her and kissing her again; her mouth was immediately open against his, and she hummed as he slid his tongue into her mouth, warm and slick. When he pulled back, he knew he looked utterly, embarrassingly besotted as he looked down with her, but she was drunk enough not to comment.

She just threaded her fingers through his and lead him out through the living room, weaving between the throng of people. He steadfastly ignored Clara staring at him — no doubt smugly — from the living room couch as they passed through. By the time they were up the staircase and into the hallway that would lead to his room, he found himself pressed up against River’s back, and when she stumbled slightly, he caught her against him, his free hand flat against her stomach to steady her.

“Sweetie,” River said, preening back up against him like a cat. She let her head lull back on his shoulder, and he took the opportunity to run the tip of his tongue along the outside of her ear, taking the lobe between his teeth. He was gratified to feel her shiver. “I think the bedroom’s too far.”

“It’s two yards away.”

“It’s too far,” she repeated, circling her hips against him. 

He clenched his jaw to keep from making a sound, but walked forward anyway, until River put her hands out to stop herself from colliding with the wall. He pressed up against her back, but used the hand he had flattened over her stomach to help her step back so that she leaned over slightly. 

“You know I’m always happy to indulge your,” he paused, nuzzling his nose into the side of her neck and trailing the hand on her stomach down between her legs. He pressed his index finger against the seam of her jeans, rocking it back and forth. “Your… exhibitionist streak, dear, but you’re wearing pants. Makes this a little more difficult.”

“You’re usually up to a challenge.”

“Not when I already spend half my time convincing our friends we’re not doing exactly what we’re doing right now,” the Doctor said, licking a stripe up the side of her neck and rocking his finger over the seam of her jeans a little faster. “Into the bedroom with you. And next time, wear a skirt.”

“Who says there’s going to be a next time?”

“You will, after I get you behind closed doors.”

“Cocky,” she said, but with a shuddering breath she grabbed his hand and pulled it from between her legs, instead entwining her fingers with his and pulling him into his bedroom. 

The moment he closed the door behind him, River whipped her shirt off over her head and set about removing the rest of her clothes, gesturing for him to do the same. It took him quite a bit longer than it ought to have, because he spent quite a while watching River stumble about as she tried to get her pants off. River was always so poised and in control — maybe one of the things he missed most about being close to her was getting to see her in all of the moments she wasn’t. He always felt like that was when he got to know her best.

When they were both naked, she all but lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his neck and hopping up to wrap her legs around his hips as he kissed her, and ambled toward the bed. As soon as they tumbled onto it, he suddenly found himself on his back with River hovering over him.

“What do you want?” he asked, running his hands over her smooth, golden skin as she sat up, eying him thoughtfully. “Anything.”

“Except semi-public sex,” she corrected.

“No,” he said, “that too, but you’ve got to come prepared.”

“You’re a regular boy scout.”

“I don’t think boy scouts get this drunk.”

“How drunk are you, honey?”

“You’re spinning,” he admitted, “but only a wee bit.”

She leaned down to kiss him. He ran his hands all along her body, paying particular attention to her ass and the dip of her hip, and silently thanked whatever River had been drinking for facilitating this. They’d had sex pretty regularly — too regularly, really — since they’d broken up, but it was always quick and dirty. It had been ages since he’d gotten her clothes off properly, and had time to appreciate it. After what felt like hours, she pulled back.

“I think I’ll have you just like this,” she said. He honestly didn’t care what she did, as long as she stayed naked and kept touching him. “I do love when you’re helpless.”

“I always am, with you,” he said, and then immediately realized that he was indeed very drunk, and that being absolutely smashed, naked, and in bed with his ex — whom he was absolutely mad in love with — was a very dangerous position to be in. Not that being between River Song’s thighs wasn’t always a dangerous position.

River rose up onto her knees, reaching her hand down between him to grab his erection, which was the best thing ever, but then she was sinking down onto him, and no — this was the best thing ever. As she started to move, she lowered herself forward so that she could kiss him again, but he could barely focus on her lips when she felt so good around him. He gripped her hips firmly in his hands, digging his fingers into her hard enough to leave little red half-moon marks when he pulled away, and focused on the way the universe narrowed to where their bodies connected. Her lips trailed down his throat as her breathing grew more and more labored, puffs of gasping air against his skin as she pressed her hands into the bed on either side of him, moving faster and faster.

He managed to pull his head together enough to grip her hips a little harder, plant his feet into the bed, and thrust up to meet her. She let out a sharp noise of surprise and pleasure at that, so he held her tighter, keeping her from moving so he could press back up into her, hitting the spot inside of her that made her toes curl. River sat up, reaching a hand up to hold her hair back from her face, the other hand rolling over her own breast, her mouth open, her eyes closed. She threw her head back, and he watched the smooth line of her throat as she swallowed; the sharp noises she made and the way her thighs shook at his sides urged him on and on until she shattered around him. 

He felt so on edge, but it wasn’t quite enough. He relaxed his legs, letting her catch her breath — but it only took her a moment before she started moving again, bouncing on his cock until all he could do was grip her hips and chant her name. Her inner muscles were still fluttering around him, and she kept gasping and shouting like she couldn’t quite catch her breath, and whenever he opened his eyes to find her smirking down at him like she just knew how close he was, he came, and everything went white.

When he was finally able to move again, he reached his arm out to pull River to him where she laid panting at his side, and he was just barely able to prevent himself from making some kind of smug or — worse —  _sentimental_ comment when she sighed contentedly and curled into his side like she always used to. River tucked herself up again him,  dragging her nails gently over his skin.

"This was a mistake," she said. "I'm going to regret this tomorrow."

He grimaced. "Thanks ever so."

"Hm?"

"It's not exactly complimentary," he said, "I know we're not together anymore, but it's not exactly my idea of fun to hear that I'm repulsive to you."

She laughed, low in her throat, and in the space it took her to respond, he felt her press her lips against his chest — but maybe he imagined it. "It's exactly the opposite that's the problem."

It took him too long to figure out how to respond — he had half a dozen questions and a handful of speeches and a few witty barbs, all of which basically amounted to  _then take me back_ , but he couldn't decide if maybe he'd misheard her, or she didn't mean what he hoped. By the time he'd decided on what to say, her hand had stilled against him, her breathing leveled out, and she'd fallen asleep.

When he woke up the next morning, she was gone. He tried to bring it up when he got a moment alone with River at one of Amy’s dinner parties a few days later, but she acted like she had no idea what he was talking about.

River acting like she didn’t know what the Doctor was talking about when he mentioned their drunken dalliance, however, didn’t prevent it happening again. And again, and again. In Donna’s coat closet in the middle of a dinner neither one of them finished. In an empty classroom when Clara ‘accidentally’ invited them both to meet her after she was finished with school for dinner. On the bed in Amy and Rory’s guest bedroom, at least a half a dozen times, or on their couch when they forgot to lock the door. In a pub restroom. Over the next few months, any time either one of them had so much as one drink to use as an — increasingly flimsy — excuse, they ended up tangled up in one another. River, teasing, smirking, digging her nails into him deep enough to scar; him, trying to prevent himself from drunkenly putting into words what he was never able to put into words before, and what would now be a mortifying admission, given that they were no longer a couple.

Not only were they no longer a couple, but River was still dating Ramone. And a half a dozen other men, plus a dozen women. The Doctor wasn’t sure when she has time to sleep, but after a while, he stopped eavesdropping for gossip and started leaving the room any time his friends started to discuss River’s love life, because while she seemed to be moving on in spectacular style, he wasn’t. Not that anyone really expected him to. He'd never dated before River; no one seemed to be operating under the impression he’d date somebody after her. He was married, once, but that was a long time ago and he didn’t like to talk about it, so mostly everyone seemed to forget that it ever happened at all. 

That started to grate on him. The River situation was a source of constant frustration, but he could at least bear it because he still got River all to himself at least once a week if not more, but the fact that everybody just assumed he could go back to being an island after letting River root around beneath his skin for the past few years was frustrating beyond words. 

He was the Doctor — he was the odd bloke with so many jobs that no one ever properly remembered what he was working on, and the name that wasn’t really a name. He talked faster than just about anybody, and said things just to throw people off of their game. He was the one every one of his friends came to for advice, or for someone to really, really listen to them. He was the one who inspired them to reach for more, and often the cause of their greatest problems. They loved him, he knew, almost as much as he loved them. And most of them even knew him, which was more than he could say for more people he encountered. But there was knowing, and there was understanding, and this whole situation frustrated him because he felt like nobody was understanding him. And to be fair to everybody, he deliberately clouded his intentions and desires with a series of bad jokes and tawdry quirks, so it wasn’t their fault, but still he blamed them. Even, if not especially, River seemed to be missing what he felt like was so obvious, and that was worse, because he’d thought she understood him.

He was so, so in love with her. He was in love with her in a ridiculous, stupid, brainless sort of way. All of the things that made him so clever melted out of his ears whenever he was around her. He couldn’t think, or pay attention to anything else when she was around. If River was in the room, even if he was having a conversation with somebody else, he was tracking her in the corner of his eyes. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her. He probably could’ve reconstructed her from memory, every cell and sinew, and breathe her to life with the depth of his knowledge of her person. There wasn’t any part of him that had truly acknowledged that they’d broken up, or that she’d started seeing other people, because as long as he got her to himself every once in a while, he could pretend that she still felt for him. As long as she was around for drinks and dinners and outings with their friends, she’d be in his life, and he could make sure that she was okay. He could make sure that she would be loved as well as she deserved, even if she’d never realize it.  
  
So they kept fighting when they were sober, fucking when they weren’t, and sometimes the other way around. It wasn’t enough, but it was something, and at the very least something was better than nothing.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quite literally forgot I hadn't updated this. My ONE SHOT to look prompt since this has been finished from the get go and I still fucked up. I'm a ROCKSTAR, I say

“Raggedy man,” Amy said, sliding a coffee cup across the table at the coffee shop she’d ordered him to, “you’re looking more and more raggedy and less and less like a man, lately. Spill your guts.”

“Amelia, I’m fine.”

“You aren’t fine,” Amy said. “I know why, but I’d rather you say it.”

“I’m fine!”

“Soooooo,” Amy said, reaching out to whack him on the head, “let’s talk about River.”

“What about River? We can hardly be in the same room.”

Amy rolled her eyes. “Oh, yes. You can hardly be in the same room if other people are in it, but give you two a room alone, and you ruin a perfectly nice set of sheets.”

He winced. “You’ve noticed?”

“Everybody’s noticed,” Amy said. “I’m not sure there’s a one of us who hasn’t walked in on you two at one point. And even if that hadn’t happened, I’m sure you’ve noticed River doesn’t have that little bone in her body that tells her to be embarrassed.”

The Doctor snorted. “So?”

“She’s a screamer,” Amy said, “which is something I never, ever wanted to know. You both disgust me completely, but that’s not the point.”

He sighed impatiently, spinning the coffee cup between his hands. Part of him was glad to be having the conversation, even if he couldn’t bring himself to say anything he wanted to say, even to a third party. He wouldn’t admit it, but the whole thing was eating away at him.

“What’s the point then, Pond?”

“You still have feelings for River,” Amy said.

He shoved his coffee aside and scrubbed a hand over his face, trying to look annoyed rather than guilty. 

“I’ll tell you somethin’ else,” Amy said. “Somethin’ you don’t know.”

He grunted.

“River still has feelings for you,” Amy said. “Now, you’ve lost a stone and I’m not sure you’ve brushed your hair in the past month and you are starting to smell. So sort yourself out, take River out on a proper date, and tell her you’re getting back together, or all of your friends are going to conspire to kill you both.”

He gaped at her. “River doesn’t have feelings for me.”

“You heard exactly none of this from me, but,” Amy said, “River told me that she tried to talk to you about your relationship, and you basically dumped her, so she agreed to keep from embarrassing herself. Which is fascinating information, since you told me that River was dumping you and you agreed to keep from embarrassing yourself.”

Amy felt a little bad about sharing River’s secrets, but the fact that the Doctor actually made a proper facial expression was reward enough. Besides, if they got back together, then they’d just shag at one of their places, and she and Rory could stop locking all of their doors.

Ah, Amy thought, sipping her coffee and eying the Doctor smugly as he pulled out his phone and shot off a text, the future is bright.   
  
  


 

River didn’t have a clue why the Doctor had asked her to meet him in London, nor did she know why she agreed. But before she’d even been able to properly consider it, after reading his texted invitation, she’d responded in the affirmative. It seemed she was always doing that around the Doctor, which had been one thing while they were dating, but was another level of annoying entirely now that they weren’t. She had Ramone and a dozen others on the line, and still all the Doctor had to do was send her a vague text asking to meet, and she was pulling his favorite green-gold dress and donning heels. 

When she arrived to the street corner he’d asked her to meet him at, she was pleased to find that he was in a suit, which at least meant she wasn’t overdressed. He grinned the moment he saw her, so broadly that her heart skipped a beat, and tugged her in to kiss her on each cheek.

“Hello, sweetie,” he said, parroting her own usual greeting back at her as she blinked at him.

“Is this a prank?”

“No, no,” he said, offering her his arm. “Consider it a truce.”

“I’m not sure I want a truce.”

“Fair enough,” the Doctor said, “fighting has been an awful lot of fun.”

“It’s the other f-word that’s been an awful lot of fun.”

“Don’t try to tell me you didn’t like the fighting, too.”

She rolled her eyes at him, but took his arm, and he lead her down the row of buildings, turning into a ritzy one.

“Honestly, Doctor,” River said, “if you wanted a truce all you had to do was ask. I can bite my tongue.”

“Lately you seem more inclined to bite mine.”

“Cheeky!” she exclaimed, swatting at his arm. “What on earth’s gotten into you?”

She stopped walking to pull away from him and really look at him, because she knew the Doctor could be manipulative when he wanted to be, and it would be even easier now for him to turn on the charm — what little he had of it — to get whatever he wanted since she’d been grasping at any flimsy reason she could come up with to get close to him lately. She hated it, because he didn’t want her — he didn’t love her, and River Song had never been that girl.

“Nothing, dear,” the Doctor said. “I told you, I’m taking you to dinner.”

“Where are we?”

“I kept telling you I could get a reservation,” he said, walking her up to the host stand. “You just never let me explain that even with connections, it had to be four years down the line. So this is it — our reservation.”

She blinked at him. “You didn’t cancel it?”

“I was going to,” he said, “but I couldn’t ever bring myself to do it. And when I realized it was the night I figured, well, I’d promised to take you, didn’t I? It would’ve been rude of me to bring anybody else.”

He smiled at her, just a curve of his lips, his eyes softening at the corners, his hand covering hers where it rested on his arm, and she could’ve melted at that look. She was so touched by the ridiculous, stupid gesture that by all rights should’ve made her angry because he’d spent all those years arguing and wittering instead of just telling her that he had made the reservation. She opened her mouth to respond, but the only thing that seemed likely to come out was sappy and embarrassing, so she snapped it closed again. Then:

“Hell of a connection,” she said. “Four years for a reservation. Ridiculous.”

“I specialize in ridiculous.”

“Yes,” she said, “I remember.”

If she stared at him with a stupid smile on her face for longer than was polite, she didn’t feel badly about it, because he stared back. 

“Well, come on,” he said, leading her forward when the host gestured them into the restaurant. “Welcome, River Song, to Darillium.”

  
  
  
  
  


Darillium was every bit as magical inside as rumors said. The table the Doctor had reserved was on a private balcony overlooking the city, and the view was stunning. While they were waiting for their meal, River stood and walked over to the edge of the balcony, leaning against the railing. The view was worth looking at, but it was also preferable to sitting at a table with a fidgety, darting-eyed Doctor. She felt like she was being dumped all over again, and they weren’t even together. When the Doctor eventually came to stand at her side, she sighed.

“What’s on your mind, darling?”

“Nothing.” “It’s practically audible.”

He sighed. “I had coffee with Amy the other day.”

“Oh?”

“Interesting conversation,” the Doctor pushed on. River watched his hands clench on the balcony rail, watched his knuckles go white. “She talked about you quite a bit.”

“You can never believe a word Amy says.”

“Usually I’d agree,” he said, “but she… talked about you. And she talked about — when we were… together. And there was something I realized I, uh, might not have made clear. Months ago. When we were….”

“Together,” River supplied for him when he didn’t seem keen on finishing. He nodded, his eyes studiously avoiding her. “Okay.”

“The night we were… When you asked me if I — loved you.”

“Oh. Sweetie, we don’t —”

“No, we do,” he said. He still didn’t look at her, but he stepped a little closer to where she stood. “Because from my end, what happened, was you asked me, and I didn’t know how to — it took me a while to find my words, but by the time I had, you’d already started going on about how you thought it was better if we didn’t see each other anymore, and so I just agreed, because I thought it was what you wanted.”

It took a few moments for the words to settle in. She tried to replay her memory of that night in her head, but it felt like so long ago, and like such wasted energy when he was standing right beside her.

“It wasn’t.”

“Then what were you trying to… say, exactly?”

River sighed, leaning forward over the railing a bit and glancing at the ground. People moved in distant, tiny dots on the street below, and the bright light of buses streaking down the road when the lights turned green. Part of her wanted to forget all about this — part of her wanted to laugh him off and tease, to poke fun at how nervous and tight-lipped he was over whatever he was trying to say. But she didn’t think he’d be bringing this up unless he thought there was a positive outcome, which likely meant that the gist of her explanation had already been spilled to him by Amy and he was just being polite by letting her say it herself. She appreciated that, at least.

“I asked because I’d been gone on you from the moment we met,” she said, turning to look at him. He kept his eyes fixed on the skyline, his mouth drawn into a tight line. She couldn’t see his eyes to read his expression, so she kept going. “I was in love with you. And you know I’ve never been a wedding person or any of that, but when I thought about my future, you were always in it. But over the years, the more I thought about that, the more I realized that I’d never heard you say that you loved me. I’d always assumed, of course. You’re not nearly as subtle as you think you are. But one day I was looking at you and thinking that I’d do anything for you, that I wanted you in a way I’ve never wanted anything, that after a lifetime of forcing myself to be — to be  _ indestructible _ , I’d let you break me down, if you wanted. And so I asked, and you hesitated, and so I ran. It was my fault, anyway.” She forced herself to laugh, dragging her eyes away from his carefully blank face to stare at the city again. “What kind of idiot expects a sunset to admire them back?”

“What kind of idiot thinks of a person as a sunset?” he said gruffly.

“Shut up.”

“Honestly, I was half expecting you to start talking about the stars shining or the beauty of a waterfall —”

“Seriously, Doctor, shut up,” River said, shooting him a glare, but when she turned to him she saw that he was nearly standing on top of her, towering over her with an expression on his face so soft and warm that she immediately felt a lump form in her throat.

“I’m rubbish with words.”

“Oh, you think?”

“Well, you  _ know _ that,” the Doctor said, “and still you plowed on when I was trying to get them just right saying how we weren’t suited or whatever you said, and I thought that’s what you wanted, so I just agreed with you.”

“What does that —”

His hand covered hers on the railing, and she found herself blinking away tears — this whole thing was mortifying and ridiculous — as he leaned closer to her. “It’s stupid to compare a person to a sunset. But does it make it better or worse that I’ve been looking at you all this time and thinking the same thing?”

“What?” she asked, faintly.  _ Mortifying _ , she thought.

“One sunset to another,” the Doctor said, “the admiration is mutual.”

She laughed, her entire body flooding with relief as he pried her hand from the railing and let their entwined fingers fall to the side as he turned her to face him, still looking at her like she was the most precious thing he’d ever seen.

“You  _ are _ rubbish with words,” she said.

“And still you’re going to be my girl again.”

“Your  _ girl _ ,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Are you asking me or telling me?”

“Asking,” he said, “but I phrased it as a statement so as to give the illusion of confidence.”

“Ah,” she said, “in that case, yes.”

“Yes?”

“Yes.”

“You mean, you still —”

“Love you?” she said, rolling her eyes as she reached out to run her fingers along the edges of his lapels. “Of course I do. And you?”

“Yes,” he said, reaching out to cup her face in his hands. “Yes, of course. Always.”

“Darling?”

“Hm?”

“Darillium was worth the wait.”

He smiled at her, and she couldn’t wait a moment longer, so she wrapped her fingers in his suit jacket and pulled him to her for a kiss. They’d kissed often since they’d broken up, but this one was different, because this time when they pulled apart, neither one of them ran away.

  
  
  
  


“It’s sweet,” Clara said, leaning her chin on her hand and glancing across the living room to where River sat perched on the Doctor’s lap in an armchair in the corner. Neither one of them seemed to realize anybody else was in the room, let alone that everybody was talking about them.

“It’s obscene,” Donna said. “Look at him, he’s hardly anything. I could barely stand the implication that River was lowering herself to shag his scrawny arse while they were fighting, but now having it shoved under my nose all the time? Disgusting.”

“Shut up,” Amy said, shoving Donna’s shoulder. “At least this way when they get all grabby and gross they just go back to one of their own houses and do whatever they do there.”

“Ugh — stop!” Donna said, covering her ears. “Seriously,  _ stop _ with the mental images. Actually, oi, lovebirds!” She shouted loud enough to startle the Doctor and River to look at the three women where they sat on the couch across the room, both blinking owlishly as if they’d just realized they were supposed to be hanging out with friends. “Quit making me nauseous and come chat, hm?”

“Yeah,” Rory said, “River’s practically our daughter and that makes you our son-in-law. If you don’t stop pawing at her right now I’m going to have to do the scary father-in-law bit. I have a gun!”

“You don’t have a gun,” Amy said, snorting.

“No, but I have an excellent set of kitchen knives,” Rory amended, wagging his finger at them as he laid out a few bowls of snacks on the table before taking his seat.

“Your daughter!” River exclaimed with a laugh, extricating herself from the Doctor and patting him on the cheek when his lower lip jutted out in a pout. “I could be your mother.”

“Please,” Amy said. “I’m constantly taking care of you idiots.  _ I’m _ the mother.”

River leaned over Amy on the couch and planted a smacking kiss on her forehead. “Whatever you say, mummy.”

“See?” Clara said, elbowing Donna. “Sweet.”

“I need more wine if I’m going to stomach this talk. And where’s Martha? She was meant to bring a bottle,” Donna said, getting up from the couch, but the Doctor caught her smile as she walked past him.

“Softy,” he grumbled under his breath at her.

Donna slapped his shoulder, but when he caught her hand, she gave it a squeeze. The Doctor, not for the first time, wondered how he ever got anything done without his friends. Martha showed up moments later, she and Donna returning to the living room with more to drink and loud, raucous laughter over something they failed miserably in explaining. River stepped over from Amy and perched on the arm of the chair Rory sat at, murmuring something under her breath to him that made him laugh and squeeze her knee affectionately. Amy draped an arm over Clara’s shoulder, and the Doctor didn’t miss the way whatever they were discussing caused their eyes to dart back and forth between himself and River. When he looked at River, she blew him a kiss, and he felt himself smile without his consent. He raised his brows at her, and she shook her head, mouthing,  _ no, not yet _ .

So he settled more deeply into his chair to watch all of the people he loved in one room, and idly wondered how Amy was going to feel when they announced she was going to become a grandmother.

  
  



End file.
